


Rezombification

by Rayvee



Series: Hermitcraft Scattered AU [3]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Cleo goes back to being a zombie, Gen, Scattered AU, She's impatient to do so and doesn't plan ahead, Tag wranglers stop putting Hermitcraft as RPF challenge, because obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvee/pseuds/Rayvee
Summary: With the displaced hermits gathered back at True Spawn, the plugins once again up and running, and everyone starting to slowly start their journeys of recovery, it won't be long before Season 8 will be able to properly begin.But for Cleo, having been forcibly returned to human form for months, there's one last thing she needs to do.
Series: Hermitcraft Scattered AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081970
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	Rezombification

**Author's Note:**

> [Information and the first masterpost for the Scattered AU can be found here.](https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/638327802787250176/this-is-a-collection-of-all-material-associated)   
> 

_ Inhale. Exhale. Relish the sensation of air filling your lungs.  
_ She wasn’t going to have it much longer.

It was her choice, of course. One she’d made a long time ago, one she’d continued to make even when she’d learned of ways to return her to the way she was before everything. To return her the way she was now.  
With her heart beating, lungs breathing, blood moving through her veins. Her body warm, her skin pink, her flesh able to heal on its own.

“You ready?” False was standing beside her, hand already on the sword hanging at her waist.

Inhale. Exhale.  
Cleo nodded.

***

The area around the spawner had been lit- nobody had gotten around to turning it into a farm yet, not with a pair of skeleton spawners that were both closer to True Spawn and capable of producing far more useful drops.  
But skeletons weren’t what Cleo needed.

Inhale. Exhale. It was strange how aware she was of something that was second nature to almost everyone on the server, that had once been second nature to her. Not anymore. Not for a long time.

“Ready?” False stood over the last remaining torch, placed on the top of the spawner. She had her sword ready, prepared to slay any zombies.

Cleo realised she should've explained beforehand.  
“Okay, so once one or two spawn, put the torch back. They have to actually  _ bite  _ me, but I’ll probably shove my arm in their mouth or something equally stupid. Um, once I get bit, I probably won’t exactly be… coherent. Or conscious. Maybe we should’ve grabbed a third person, actually…”  
“How long will you be out?”  
Cleo pulled a face. “Last time it was a month. Technically, it was from a baby zombie, not an adult, but...” She saw the look on False’s face.  
“I’ll message Joe.”   
“Why Joe?”  
“He won’t panic.”

***

“Howdy False.”  
“Hi Joe.”  
“Well, I bought some bandages and a stretcher because I know you two probably can’t be trusted to take basic medical supplies and I am  _ not  _ dragging Cleo all the way back to True Spawn.”  
Cleo rubbed the back of her neck. “Probably a good call.”

They all stared in silence at the small, spinning zombie in the cage.  
Inhale. Exhale.  
Cleo broke the torch.

A single zombie appeared in the customary puff of smoke, reaching out toward Joe. Cleo intercepted, distracting it as False replaced the torch. It gave out a groan she’d normally understand, turning lunging at her in that frustratingly slow way, arms outstretched.  
She didn't need to get scratched. She needed to get bit.  
Inhale. Exhale.

Shoving one’s arm in a zombie’s mouth is not considered the best idea, but Cleo wanted to get it over with. And hey, at least it was her left arm.  
She wasn’t  _ completely  _ stupid.

The zombie clamped down on her arm, perhaps instinctively. Sharp, yellowed teeth dug through her skin and muscle, and blood poured out where it had latched on. She heard Joe shout something, watched as the zombie was cut through and dissipated by False’s sword, but the words couldn’t quite make their way through her skull.

She swayed, looked at False.   
“Don’t let Joe...do anything...stupid.” She muttered.  
Then the world started to fall sideways.

False watched as Joe caught the redhead.  
She already looked so  _ pale _ . She felt frozen, watching in horror as blood  _ poured  _ out of her left arm. This was a bad idea, such a bad idea-  
“False!”  
Joe’s voice echoed in the dungeon, seeming louder than it actually was.  
“Help me bandage her arm.”

***

They shifted her onto the stretcher Joe had thought to take, and False felt guilty that she hadn’t thought to bring one. They’d been underprepared, had moved too soon…  
Dammit, she was supposed to be better organised than this! She should’ve thought this through, talked to Cleo about what to expect, done this closer to True Spawn. 

“Did you two actually  _ tell  _ anyone where we were going or are we going to show up at True Spawn to find a bunch of people panicking and be forced to fend off Stress while carrying a stretcher?”  
Yep, this  _ definitely  _ wasn’t thought out.  
“Could we sneak back in, you think?”  
“Depends. Who’s on night watch?”  
False had to think for a minute.

“I think...Doc.”  
“Doc’ll probably be fine.  Hopefully he’ll keep his voice down. The only thing that’ll be harder to deal with than worried hermits is _ sleep-deprived _ worried hermits.”  
“That… actually made sense. You’re losing your touch, Joe.”  
Saying that was probably a mistake, because Joe proceeded to give her an impromptu history lesson the whole way back to True Spawn.

***

They _did_ run into Doc. False had spotted the red glow of his eye as they grew close, and it was obvious he’d already seen them.  
He did  _ not  _ look happy.  
“Hey, Doc.” False said sheepishly. “How’s it going?”  
“Where have you  _ been?!”  _ The creeper hybrid hissed, clearly agitated.  
“The zombie spawner?”  
Doc looked at her, then at Joe, then at Cleo, lying unconscious on the stretcher between them.  
“And you didn’t tell anyone about this because…”   
“I thought Cleo had told somebody?”  
“She told me.” Joe volunteered. “Also, could we have this discussion elsewhere? She’s getting heavy.”  
Doc rolled his eyes and took Joe’s end of the stretcher.  
“Thanks for letting Stress come ask me if you’re back every fifteen minutes, guys. I really appreciate it.”  
“I’ll valiantly hold Stress and her health potions off.” Joe offered.  
“What’s wrong with Stress’ health potions?” False asked as they resumed walking.  
“Well, the one time I gave her one mid-transformation, she screamed like a thousand tortured souls and smoke started coming out of her mouth. So I decided that was probably not the best course of action.”

***

Becoming a zombie was always a fun time. Assuming you didn’t die from some sort of horrible infection, there was a creeping cold that spread from the bite, one that spread through your body and settled into your bones.  
It was the feeling of your body dying.

As it died, you became immobilized- unable to move, as your muscles no longer functioned as they did in life but your limbs were not yet capable of shifting in the same way zombies or skeletons did. Your heart and lungs shut down, you stopped producing blood, your digestive system started to change to favour raw meat.  
To favour human flesh.  
All throughout the changes, you hurt- it started off as agony, where you’d welcome the hours or days of unconsciousness that dominated most of your time, only having fleeting periods of relative lucidity. As time wore on, and your body adjusted to its new nature, it faded, but you would still be sore for some time even after you returned to the world for good.  
It was not an experience Cleo would recommend to anyone.

She heard things, sometimes, when she drifted closer to consciousness. Snatches of voices- talking, singing, humming. Words she couldn’t register, from voices she couldn’t name, were almost always there. Sometimes she heard birdcalls, or explosions, blocks being placed and destroyed. 

Eventually, though, she came around for good.

***

There was sunlight streaming through the window, obnoxiously bright after spending so long in darkness. She was in her own bed, underneath blankets that would do nothing to help warm someone who didn’t produce body heat.   
She groaned, considered sticking her head under the covers and staying there for the rest of her life. But she’d probably spent enough time in bed, so she forced herself to swing her legs out from under the sheets. 

She stared at her pale green skin for a moment, remembering the first time she’d woken up a zombie. She’d freaked, horrified at the very idea of being undead, of ceasing to be human.  
Now, she welcomed it. Being a zombie had its drawbacks, of course.   
But it had only been after she’d died that she’d started to truly live.

How far she’d come.

***

Cleo took three steps out of her small hut and stopped.  
She blinked, slowly looked around.  
Her hut was on a raised dais, and all around it was a massive replica of the Parthenon, built entirely out of quartz.

_ “JOE!” _

**Author's Note:**

> Well, as the Scattered AU is wrapping up, I decided to do one last OS. Naturally, with Cleo being human and my favourite hermit, it only made sense to focus on her.
> 
> This AU was a lot of fun, and I'm looking forward to the next one! It's given me a lot of inspiration, and I've enjoyed being a part of it! I absolutely want to do more Hermitcraft fics in the future, and already have a dozen ideas buzzing around my head in the typical fashion.


End file.
